


Blitz

by TransientGuest



Category: Original Work
Genre: Ghosts, Lightning - Freeform, M/M, Secret Identity, Superheroes, Villains
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 07:45:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4779377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TransientGuest/pseuds/TransientGuest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I did this job for six years. Six long years, before finally meeting my match. Some villains just didn't know when to quit. And this one was annoyingly persistent. He went by the name of Raven. And he was pretty much the bane of my existence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blitz

It was a dark and stormy night… Okay, so it wasn't stormy. It was sunny. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. And… it was daytime. The middle of the afternoon, in fact.

It just so happened that on this beautiful day where seemingly nothing could go wrong, I died. It was strange. Dying. I don't remember hearing anything or feeling anything really. All I remember is a bright light. I'm not sure it was the light to heaven or paradise or wherever you go when you die.

Actually looking back on it… I'm pretty sure it was a lightning bolt.

Now I know you're probably thinking, "But Cahya, if you're dead how're you writing this story?" And the answer is simple: I'm a poltergeist.

Just kidding, they're not real. Or at least I don't think they are… Obviously I'm able to write this because I didn't stay dead. I'm very much alive and happily, at the urge of my psychologist, writing down my life story with a bloody pencil but

Sorry, pencil broke. I've switched to a pen now so that can't happen again. Now I'll probably just run out of ink.

But yeah, I was dead. How do I know I died? That's actually an easy one.

I woke up to the smell of embalming fluid in a morgue.

Shocked everyone there. _Literally_.

A freakin' electric shock went through the room like a sonic boom, knocking over the lovely medical examiner and other personnel. I ran out of there quickly. Probably looked like a lunatic. And I'm really lucky I didn't get charged with indecent exposure. They don't keep clothes on dead people. That's really only a funeral thing. I did have a lovely sheet over my body, but in my panic I left it in the quiet room.

Once my little freak out was over and I was safe behind the doors of my home, I realized that the bolt of lightning, that stupid stagnant bolt that had hit me, had changed me. I mean, obviously something happened, I let out an electrical discharge. That wasn't normal…

But more had changed than just me becoming supercharged. My once mousey brown hair had changed to an icy blonde, almost blue, and my honey eyes were a bright piercing blue. My nice tan skin had been lightened considerably. All in all, I looked like a walking lightning bolt, complete with a nasty charge. Or an ice sickle.

The most painful part of my appearance changing had to be that my friends and family didn't recognize me anymore. My parents refused to believe that I was their son. They believed I was dead, and seeing a ghost of their boy wasn't enough to convince them otherwise. Nothing I said, nothing I did ( like show them my drivers license, bring up fond memories, etc.) could convince them that I was for real. And my friends were similar. Stricken with grief, they refused to accept that I could be their good friend Cahya Piapot. After all, a number of them had been there when that bolt hit me.

I'm not gonna lie, I contemplated suicide. Even tried it on one occasion, but as luck would have it, the stupid lightning bolt struck again, the wounds I inflicted upon myself healed quickly. I don't even have scars left.

And everywhere I went I shocked people. I couldn't control when it happened or how much electricity I discharged.

I began to isolate myself.

I moved away from everything I had known. To a small town with more cows than goats and more goats than people.

Somewhere along the way I gave up trying to kill myself… See, at this point in time I still hoped that these powers were temporary. That I'd wake up one day and they'd be gone and I'd be able to go back to my old life. That's what kept me going at night. The hope that one day I'd be a normal human being again.

It's been a very long time since I thought that was going to actually happen.

And even alone I was a danger. A danger to myself. I would pick up random objects and get shocks and I couldn't keep myself busy to save my life. You see, the electrical currents running through my body made radio stations cut in and out and I got absolutely no cell phone reception thanks to my interfering signals. After I accidentally made two TVs explode I gave up on that too.

It was a horrible existence.

Then slowly, it got better. I stopped getting shocks. I could use a cell phone, not that I had anyone to call, and I could listen to the radio without hearing that staticy interference. I thought I was cured.

In the end I had to learn the hard way that there was no curing this strange affliction.

You see, after I pronounced myself cured, I started participating in the real world again. I got a job. A crappy one at a grocery store. And, get ready for this; I ever started hanging out with people my own age again. Actually just hanging out with people in general would have been an improvement to my previous amount of interaction.

I even started dating again.

His name was Brad. Brad Pinkerton. And he was wonderful. We met through a mutual friend at a local bar during happy hour. It really was as romantic as it sounds.

But, we ended up dating for several months. And then we decided to take our relationship to the next level. That is, we decided to _consummate_ our bond. Or you know, to put it crassly, we had sex. It should have been great, amazing, if not awkward, something we could laugh about later, but… well by the time it was over all I wanted to do was die. To… trade places with Brad.

Everything was okay at first. It was a race to see which one of us could disrobe faster and then we fell onto the bed laughing in a tangled pile of limbs. It was so decidedly unsexy.

We kissed gently, passionately and things began to get hot and heavy. There was more stimuli than I was used to and I found myself extremely aroused. Now I had been aroused before, but this time felt different I was buzzing with energy. On several occasions I accidentally omitted little sparks. Brad just joked that we needed to find new sheets, thinking it was their fault that he kept getting shocked.

We should have stopped right then and there but we were both blinded by passion. During the climax I lost control. I omitted an electrical charge. A _strong_ electrical charge.

I saw white.

When I came to the first thing I recognized, before even opening my eyes was that there was something heavy on top of me. I opened my eyes quickly and looked into the unseeing orbs of my lover. I screeched and scrambled away from him scared of what would happen if I touched him again.

I grabbed for a cell phone and tried to make a call for an ambulance. But no matter where I went there was no reception. I remember looking at him forlornly and ordering him to hang tight. I'd be back with help. I think it was obvious to me that he was beyond help at this point, but I didn't want to admit that. I needed him in my life. He was my stability and I loved him. It's hard to admit that a loved one's gone from the world forever. It's even harder when you feel responsible for their death.

I flew out of the house like a bat out of hell and sprinted to my neighbor's place. We lived in the country and it was actually quite a walk. I remember it was raining heavily and I was drenched in a matter of seconds. The electrical currents cracked and sizzled with excitement. They loved the rain. When I arrived at the house I knocked at the door frantically. I must have been quite a sight with my rapid breathing and disheveled, drenched appearance. I begged them to help me.

Told them my boyfriend wasn't moving. I couldn't get him to wake up.

They took care of everything.

Brad was pronounced dead at the scene. Cause of death: heart attack. They were a little shocked that someone so young had one, but insisted that was the cause.

But I knew the truth. I lost control and killed him.

I spiraled out of control for months after that. I was back to square one with my powers. Shocks at random, no radios or cellphones. I quit my job when kept making the electricity flutter on and off.

And then I moved to the city. The quiet countryside reminded me too much of the man I loved and I found myself depressed by the surroundings. When I was in the country all I could think about was how I killed him.

After the move, I started to get better slowly. The guilt and loss didn't go away, I suspect they never will. But they dulled to a low ache something I couldn't exactly ignore, but I could live with. And, as can be expected, overtime I gained control of my powers again.

And all was going okay. I felt comfortable enough to get another job. This time at a restaurant. A nice upscale restaurant.

It was one night walking home from a backbreaking shift that I found my purpose in life at the hands of two would be muggers.

I had been the last host on duty and stayed a little later to finish cleaning up. It was on the way back to my apartment that I felt a tickling sensation on the small of my back.

I turned around to see a man holding a taser.

The guy held down the button and, sure enough, electricity buzzed to life. "Huh, why the hell didn't it work?" the idiot asked

And then he reached forward and tased me again. Right in the chest. Because I'm the kind of person who likes to let people figure out things for themself, I just let it happen.

And it tickled.

He pulled it back and him and his companion exchanged bewildered looks. It was at this point that I realized that, hey, these nice friendly guys were probably going to mug me.

Suddenly I knew what I should use my powers for.

I concentrated on my left hand and got a light electrical buzz going through it. It felt strange isolating it to one section of my body but it was surprisingly easy to manipulate and control.

I decided to see if the taser I made would work on the too buffoons in front of me. I went for the one who had tased me first. And he went out like a lamp. Instead of running for it, the second one just stared at his friend dumbly giving me ample time to treat him to the same treat his friend had received.

They were sprawled unconscious and I went into action. I found a street sign and decided to see if I could bend it, using my powers, around the guys to keep them there. Turns out I could, but it took a lot of energy. I was perspiring and could barely stand after they were secured.

I called the police and reported the crime as an anonymous bystander and watched from the shadows as the cops came to cart the thugs away.

Turns out they were wanted for several muggings in the area.

The mysterious person who caught them was being regarded as a hero.

My heart swelled with pride at their praise. I had a purpose in life. Something good. That I was good at.

They had called me a hero, and from that day on that's exactly what I was.

I assumed the name Blitz and that's all the media talked about these days. Papers wrote about me. There were action figures. Girls fawned over me. And I'm not gonna lie, I liked the attention. I'd like to think I didn't let it get to my head but, I probably did. I kept myself grounded to the real world through my work at the restaurant and outings with friends.

I did this job for six years. Six long years, before finally meeting my match.

Some villains just didn't know when to quit. And this one was annoyingly persistent.

He went by the name of Raven.


End file.
